To Sleep, Perchance To Finally Get Some Fucking Sleep
by wuemsel
Summary: McCoy really just needs some rest.


**Author's Note:** I read so many great stories about Bones pushing himself to the edge of collapse cause he's just the worst at recognizing his own needs and... obv that's true and in character, but I thought I'd just have some fun with a different take on it. :p Jim's just the BEST friend in this, sorry... ;)

The Great MedBay Chocolate Wars were inspired by "And a Day" by apathetic_revenant on a3o. Check it out, it's brill. :)

**TO SLEEP, PERCHANCE TO FINALLY GET SOME FUCKING SLEEP**

_by wuemsel_

McCoy pressed the send button on his PADD and let it clatter to the desk, rubbing his eyes. "There. Hope, you're satisfied, Green," he muttered to himself, then glanced over his fingers at the alarm clock on his desk.

0800 hours.

He had worked all night on the analysis for Spock after having spent all day on B'uht 6, the planet they were currently orbiting, collecting data. Of course, since the day and night before that (and the day before *that*) he had helped out at the refugee camp on B'uht 54, B'uht 6's colonised moon, it would have been reasonable to let someone else do the job. His team was big enough, they had all been well rested, and if McCoy had been his own doctor, he would have called himself a moron for being so stubborn as to ignore the fact he hadn't slept in over 48 hours and couldn't remember when he'd eaten last just to prove himself to the one person on the ship you couldn't prove yourself to, anyway.

But when Spock had finished pointing out that his analysis and consequent actions were delayed by McCoy's failure to produce usable data of the flora on B'uht 6, McCoy's blood pressure had been too high for him to listen to the tiny voice of reason inside his head.

"You'll have everything you need tomorrow morning, Mr Spock."

"That would be quite appreciated," Spock had said and left the room before McCoy had had time to tell him what he'd appreciate.

But now the report was finished, the Green Goblin was off his back and if there wasn't going to be an emergency no one but him could handle - like Kirk needing someone to rant at - he was free to finally catch some much needed shut-eye. And a sandwich.

He blinked, hard, when he realised he'd been slumping in his chair, half asleep already, and stood, steadying himself on the backrest of his chair. Glancing at the shelf on the far wall, he briefly considered a night-cap - morning-cap... Well, a good-night drink.

His comm beeped.

McCoy turned his head to look at it, narrowing his eyes. "I'm off duty," he told it.

It beeped again.

Grumbling an insult, he at last stepped over and pushed the button. "McCoy."

"Bones, why aren't you in the transporter room? We're leaving in five minutes," Kirk's voice came through the intercom.

McCoy frowned. "Leaving? What? Where?"

"Don't tell me you forgot the meeting with Premier L'Lkhaa," Kirk said. "I reminded you three times yesterday."

"I was busy yesterday. I didn't listen to anything you said."

"Yeah, well, shed the labcoat and get up here," Kirk said. "I don't want to be late."

McCoy groaned quietly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jim, would it be awfully rude if I didn't attend that meeting? I'm really beat."

"Don't be ridiculous. You're the one who told me I had to order the meeting in the first place. Without you there, who'll speak for the refugees?"

"You don't need me there, you read my report. Use that."

"Bones, you never handed in a report."

"Oh." McCoy frowned. Hadn't he? "Well, the situation is awful, the refugees deserve an emancipated representation on the main planet and, uh... just tell them they're all fucking bastards for treating people like that and threaten them with Starfleet interference."

"Okay, apart from the fact that I'll have you flogged if you say that to them - they granted you entry to B'uht 54 as the very first Starfleet officer ever, so it'll look very bad if you refuse to talk to them in person now."

McCoy sighed. "Yes, yes, I know, Jim, but... Hell, I haven't slept in-"

"Get up here, Doctor, that's an order," Kirk cut him off and disconnected.

McCoy glared at the intercom. "Aye, aye, asshole," he muttered, closed his eyes for a deep breath and left his office.

He grumbled some sort of greeting at Christine as he passed her on his way to their supply shelves. He grabbed a hypo and injected himself without even checking the label.

When he turned around to find Christine standing right behind him with her arms crossed in front of her, he frowned defensively.

"What?"

"You promised not to do that anymore," Christine said sternly.

"So? I'm a doctor, not a politician. I don't have to keep my promises."

Christine rolled her eyes. "It's not even smart," she said. "The adrenaline will only keep you on your feet till you'll crash, and then it'll be even harder than it would've been without it. Like every other time before," she added dryly.

"Yes, yes, blah, blah," McCoy said. "By then I'll be back here, in my bed, where I belong. But now I have to go be diplomatic and I can't do that when I'm falling asleep in my boots."

"If you'd've taken a break when I told y-"

"Damnit Chris, are you my fucking moth-"

The intercom cut McCoy off (for which he was glad the second he realised that he was snapping at his friend) and Christine went to answer it, glaring at McCoy all the way.

"Sickbay. Chapel here."

"Has Dr McCoy left?" Kirk asked.

McCoy nodded hastily and hurried out of the room.

Christine sighed. "Yes, Captain."

"I hope so," Kirk said.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

The meeting took longer than McCoy had anticipated and by the time he, Kirk and Spock were on their way down from Parliament Mountain to the inner city of O'gla, his head was beginning to feel too heavy to keep up. He was walking with his arms crossed firmly in front of him, careful not to lose his footing. He felt slightly dizzy.

"See?" Kirk said. "Told you they'd pay more attention to what you've got to say than to us."

"Hmpf," McCoy mumbled, not looking up.

"Indeed I must compliment on you on the diplomatic skills you've shown, Doctor," Spock said. "I was surprised by your capability to refrain from emotional outbursts and let empirical facts speak for themselves."

"Uh huh," McCoy said, still not looking up from his feet. It was plainly obvious he hadn't heard a word Spock had said.

Spock and Kirk exchanged a look.

"Bones?" Kirk asked, then when he got no reaction, nudged McCoy's shoulder. "Bones?"

"What?" McCoy snapped, jerking his head up and stumbling over his own feet. "I'm trying to walk here."

"Are you all right?" Kirk asked, taking his arm to steady him.

"I need to go to bed."

"Yeah," Kirk said and patted his back with a smile. "After we visited that hospital, you can leave. Spock and I can pay our respects to... that guy...?" He turned to Spock, brows raised.

"Kl'ah G'hal," Spock said.

"Him. We can do that without you. I'm sure he won't mind."

McCoy groaned. "I don't wanna inspect any fucking hospitals. I'm tired."

"C'mon, man up, Doctor," Kirk grinned.

"Have you any idea how long I've been awake now?" McCoy grumbled. They had reached the market place and were following Spock, who had memorized the way described to them.

"Well," Kirk grinned, "you're a doctor, not a toddler. You can stand losing a few hours sleep now and then, can't you?" At McCoy's incredulous stare, he laughed and patted his arm. "I'll buy you a coffee on the way. Do they have coffee here, Spock?"

"Dr McCoy would be more equipped to answer that question, Captain, as he has examined the flora of this planet."

"I sent you a report," McCoy said.

Spock cast him a glance. "Indeed. There is no plant on this planet that could be used in the production of stimulating beverages."

"That means no coffee," McCoy told Kirk.

"I know."

McCoy shrugged. "I don't always know what he means. When I do, I like to share."

They walked on for a bit, rounding corners and passing drab looking buildings. Eventually, Kirk frowned and asked, "When did you send Spock a report?"

"This morning," McCoy answered through a yawn.

"When did you have time to write it?"

"Last night," McCoy said, making it sound like he was talking to an idiot.

Kirk's frown deepened. "Wait, how long exac-" he started, but was cut off by his communicator beeping. Without taking his eyes off McCoy, he flipped it open. "Kirk here."

"Captain," Scotty said, "we are being approached by a shuttle and asked to put it in tractor beam. It seems the terrorists we've been told about have heard about our visit to B'uht 54. They ask permission to come aboard and speak to Dr McCoy."

"You're a hero," Kirk told McCoy.

"Or a target," McCoy replied.

"You don't want to talk to them?"

McCoy rolled his eyes. "Of course I want to talk to them, don't be stupid."

"Captain," Spock said, "it would be advisable to grant the shuttle crew's wishes. It appears to be a good chance to negotiate between the B'uht government and the rogue refugees."

"I agree," Kirk said. "Mr Scott, let them dock. And beam us up."

"Aye, sir."

"Everybody's crazy about you here, Bones," Kirk said with a smirk.

"It'd be like that everywhere we go," McCoy said, "if you'd let me do more of the talking."

"It seems the B'uhtans' psychological disposition is especially-" Spock started.

"Shut up, Spock," McCoy cut him off. "I'm too tired to understand the insult."

"Very well, Doctor."

McCoy shot him a glare, before the unpleasant buzz of the transporter beam made him close his eyes.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

After three hours of intense discussion with the three so-called terrorists, who returned to their shuttle even so Kirk had offered them guest quarters aboard the ship, McCoy returned to his office to write a paper they could show the B'uht government on behalf of the refugees.

For a while, he sat staring at his desk through glassy eyes, feeling his shoulders slump. Shaking his head to clear his syrupy thoughts, he reached for the intercom.

"Chapel."

"Chris... could you get me a coffee?"

"What the hell are you doing in your office?"

McCoy sighed. "Dying. Will you be nice or not?"

"I should damn well sedate you. Can't whatever you're doing wait till you've rested?"

"No."

A pause. "Have you asked the Captain if it can?"

"Will you just bring me the fucking coffee, please? And more adrenaline while you're at it," McCoy added after a moment's thought.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Christine asked sharply.

McCoy grimaced. "... yes."

"Coffee coming up."

"Thanks. If I were richer, I'd marry you."

Christine snorted.

McCoy sat staring at his computer, waiting for his thoughts to make sense. 'Maybe I could ask Spock to remove the need for sleep from my brain. That's genius. Why haven't we let him do that to all of us years ago? - What the hell am I thinking?'

He let his head fall into his hands, staring into the darkness. His heart was racing.

The intercom beeped. Without lifting his head, McCoy pushed the button.

"McCoy."

"Doctor, report to bridge," Kirk said.

McCoy rolled his eyes behind closed lids. Jim was trying to kill him, he was sure of it. Maybe Spock had programmed him during one of their mind-melds. "I'm working on that statement, Jim, I'm really kinda-"

"Just get here, Bones. You can do that later."

"I'll be dead later."

"Doctor," Kirk said sharply, making the one word sound like an order.

McCoy sighed. "On my way."

It took him a few moments until he found it in him to stand and he bumped into his desk a few times as he rounded it to get to the door.

"Where're you goin' now?" Christine asked, suddenly appearing next to him, making him jump.

"Jesus, don't do that." His gaze fell the mug in her hands. "Oh thanks, darling," he said and grabbed it. "Not enough sugar," he declared after one sip.

"It's half sugar, half coffee," Christine said.

"Yeah, 'xactly. I'll be on the bridge."

Christine watched him for a moment, then sighed. "Len."

"Hm?"

"You're not moving."

"Huh? Oh. Yeah." He turned for the door. "I'll be on the bridge."

"You said so already."

"It's still true." He managed to only slightly bump into the wall as he left.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

He dozed off briefly in the turbolift and spilled a little coffee on his sleeveless uniform shirt, but jerked awake when the doors opened to the bridge.

"What is it now?" he grumbled, sipping his coffee and stepping next to Kirk's chair.

Kirk cast him a half worried look, then turned to Spock. "Mr Spock?"

"We are detecting a drastic change in climate on the south half of B'uht 54," Spock said.

McCoy frowned. "The camps are all in the North."

"Quite correct, Doctor," Spock said patiently. McCoy wanted to smack him. "However, the readings differ radically from what we have observed over the last days. It would aid us in our assessments of the situation, if you could have a look at it, being the only person on board who has actually visited the moon."

McCoy started at Spock as if the words were only now reaching him. "You want me to look at thunderstorms on a deserted part of a rock?"

"I am merely asking for an evaluation," Spock said.

"And you couldn't ask me that over the fucking comm?" McCoy turned to Kirk. "They built the camps in the North, because the southern half's climate is unstable. Whatever you're seeing down there's normal. Am I the only person doing any work here at all?"

"If you'd've handed in a report, as I ordered you to," Kirk snapped, "we would have been aware of that."

"When was I supposed to write a report, I was up to my elbows in patients!"

"You've been back on the ship for two days now," Kirk said.

McCoy almost dropped his coffee. "The... You know what, fu..." He bit his lip. "Can I go now or do you need me to predict tomorrow's weather on B'uht too?"

Kirk narrowed his eyes. "You're out of line, Doctor."

McCoy stretched his neck, looking at the ceiling, like it took every bit of self-control he possessed to not punch Kirk, then let go of a deep breath and smiled at his Captain. "Of course. My apologies. Can I fucking go now?"

"I expect our statement for the Premier in two hours," Kirk said sternly.

"Aye," McCoy muttered and dragged himself up the steps to the turbolift.

"And Bones-" Kirk called after him.

McCoy turned around and lost his balance, hitting the wall behind him. Suddenly, he sat on the floor, still holding the half empty coffee mug. He blinked into it, confused, and raised his head to see Kirk, Spock and Uhura standing close to the Captain's chair, looking at him.

Carefully, he put the mug away and attempted to push himself to his feet again, but failed.

"Doctor," Uhura finally asked, stepping up to crouch down next to him, "are you all right?"

McCoy snorted a laugh. "Hell, yeah. Fine. Just need to..." Closing his eyes as dizziness hit him, he trailed off. Voices wafted past him, blurred and out of tune. It took a while until they became clearer again and when he opened his eyes, he saw Kirk kneeling next to him, his hand on his shoulder.

"Bones." It sounded like he'd been repeating that for some time now.

"I'm fine, I'll be fine." McCoy weakly lifted his arm to wave Kirk off. "I just really need t'sleep, Jim. I'm not joking. Can I write that shit later? Please?"

Kirk frowned in concern. "When *was* the last time you slept?"

McCoy stared at him. "Uh..."

"Approximately 82 hours ago," Spock said from where he still stood next to the Captain's chair.

Kirk's head snapped to him, his eyes wide, then back to McCoy, who mumbled, "Yeah, sounds about... How d'you know that?"

"It is the logical conclusion to the data provided by you during your argument with the Captain."

McCoy stared at him. "You guessed?"

Spock's gaze shifted to Kirk. "I suggest, as Dr McCoy is temporarily unfit for duty, we remove him to sickbay."

McCoy frowned. "I'm tired, not sick, and I can remove myself just fi-" He pushed Kirk's hands away, rose to his feet and collapsed in an unconscious heap in Kirk's arms.

Startled, Kirk looked down on him. He felt Uhura's gaze on him, making his ears burn with guilt. Not meeting her eyes, he quickly lifted McCoy up in a fireman's carry and rose to his feet.

"I'll be in sickbay. Spock, you have the bridge."

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

McCoy was lying on a biobed, curled up on his side under a blanket, occasionally mumbling softly in his sleep.

Christine had given him a shot of vitamins and something else, muttering under her breath. She seemed to have been as angry with Kirk as with McCoy, which Kirk found rather unfair. After he had unceremoniously dropped Mccoy on the nearest biobed, Christine had more or less shoved him out of the way, checked McCoy over and started that irritating muttering, which Kirk suspected to be a string of un-lady-like remarks. She hadn't even asked him what happened.

Now that she seemed to have calmed down a little and was typing something on a PADD, Kirk glanced over at her from where he stood a bit lost next to McCoy's bed.

"How is he?" he asked at last, trying to sound at least a tiny bit like he had any authority over her.

"Exhausted," she replied in a tone that suggested it was the most idiotic question she had heard in a long time.

"Yes." Kirk suppressed a wince and looked back at his sleeping friend. "I had no idea he was pushing himself like that."

Christine shot him a look.

"I was busy," Kirk heard himself say defensively. It wasn't his usual style to apologise for anything. The only two people who could make him do it - and without saying anything - were Christine Chapel and Leonard McCoy. Kirk blamed it on their profession.

"Hm mm." Christine resumed her typing.

Kirk frowned at her, then sighed and sat down on the edge of McCoy's bed, putting a hand on the doctor's exposed ankle almost reflexively.

"It's his own fault for never telling anyone when he can't go on," he said, not sure if he was talking to Christine, himself or the sleeping doctor. "It's irresponsible, too. I can't have my CMO work until he drops dead on the bridge. What if there's an emergency and he..." He trailed off, watching McCoy uneasily.

He could feel Christine's glare on him and slightly ducked his head, not looking up. "Well... he might have mentioned he was... tired. Once or twice."

Christine still looked at him.

"I didn't see him, when he returned from the refugee camp," Kirk went on. "It was... We were in the middle of..." Again, he didn't finish. Christine continued to give him the silent treatment.

"I take it he didn't eat much, either," Kirk muttered after a moment.

He caught a slight snort behind him, then the clack-clack of Christine's boots as she left the room.

Kirk grimaced. "Well, thanks for that," he told his sleeping friend and dragged the blanket up higher over McCoy's shoulders.

STSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTSTST

It was ten hours later that McCoy was sitting up with the blanket wrapped around bare arms, reading on his PADD and letting half a sandwich grow old on a table next to his biobed.

He was so absorbed by what he was reading that he didn't hear Christine enter the room and jumped, when she grabbed the PADD out of his hands.

"Hey! I was-"

"Ignoring doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," McCoy said poutily. "I'm a doctor." He made an attempt at retrieving the PADD, but she moved it out of his reach.

"Are you going to finish that?" She nodded at the sandwich.

"No."

"Then I won't let Jay declare you fit for duty."

"I can declare myself fit for duty," McCoy said with a grumpy frown.

Christine wasn't impressed. "Eat up."

"I can't," McCoy said. "I'll eat again in three hours or so."

"If you don't, I'll put you on a drip."

"Christ, I'm fine! Just gimme back my PADD and let me be. The Thilingekreen mating ritual was just about to begin."

Christine snorted, but tossed the PADD back onto the bed. "Dirty old man," she said.

"It's a medical essay," McCoy said innocently.

Christine shook her head, snorfling.

"Bones."

Christine turned to see the Captain and Spock enter sickbay. Kirk's eyes lit up when he saw McCoy was awake.

"Visitors!" McCoy exclaimed. "What, no chocolate?"

As if for an answer, Kirk half turned to let Spock walk past him, who produced a small colourful little box from behind his back and put it on the bed in front of McCoy.

"Aww," McCoy grinned happily and reached for the box. "Thanks, Spock."

Spock nodded his head slightly.

"And here you just said you can't eat any more," Christine scowled. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Chocolate isn't food," McCoy said, fumbling with the box to get the lid off. "You haven't by any chance brought something to go with it as well?"

Kirk cast a quick look at Christine, who frowned at him. "No."

"Oh well." McCoy popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth. "Later then. When the witch is in bed."

Without a word, Christine grabbed the box out of his hands and headed for the supply closet. "Time for a vitamin shot, I think, Doctor. I'll get it."

McCoy looked after her, then back at Kirk. "She loves me, really." He nodded.

Kirk pursed his lips, nodding, too. "Course. Who doesn't?"

"So," McCoy said, moving backwards till he could lean his back against the wall and dragged up his knees, "how did the meeting with the president go? I assume you've had someone else write our statement."

"Never mind that now," Kirk said. "How're you-"

"Oh god, you haven't, have you?" McCoy cut him off, his face falling. "You waited for me to wake up to write it."

"Uhm..." Kirk cast Spock an uncomfortable look, then smiled at McCoy. "It's not that urgent, we'll hang around until..." At McCoy's look, he trailed off, V'ing his brows apologetically. "You're the only one who's been down there, y'know. And you never handed in a report we could've used."

McCoy let go of a bone-weary sigh and picked up his PADD. "Gimme two hours," he said. Glancing at Christine at the far end of sickbay, he added, "One, if you get my chocolate back."

"You don't have to do it now," Kirk said. "Relax. You just woke up after collapsing on the bridge, take a day off, okay? And next time maybe do that before you-" He cut himself off, when Spock suddenly put his hand on his shoulder. "I mean - what I meant to say is, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you when you said you needed a break. I should have taken it more serious... and I apologise."

Kirk looked at McCoy, who lifted one brow at him, then at Spock.

McCoy followed his gaze. "Are you brainwashing your superior officer now?" he asked drily. "Making him use the forbidden language? Surely that warrants a report, Mr Spock."

Spock's expression shifted minimally in the way McCoy knew was the Vulcan equivalent to violently rolling one's eyes.

"It's not like I *never* apologised for anything before," Kirk pouted. "And you really could have said you hadn't slept in *days* right away."

"Captain," Spock said, "as I have said before, the doctor has-"

"Yes, Spock, thank you," Kirk cut him off.

McCoy grinned. "Sucks when he does that, huh?"

Kirk shot him a glare.

McCoy patted his arm. "It's all right, Jim, I'll forget about it till your next physical."

Kirk groaned.

"Unless," McCoy said conspiratorially, "you get my chocolate back. Sugar's bad for the memory, you see."

"I haven't heard of that particular effect," Spock said.

"Well, you didn't study medicine, did you?" McCoy replied.

"Indeed not."

"There you go."

"You could have just not called her a witch," Kirk pointed out. "Or apologise."

McCoy snorfled. "If you think that's why she took it, you clearly weren't paying attention when I outlined the Great Chocolate Wars to you."

"... I thought you were joking," Kirk said. He looked at Spock, but his first officer seemed to understand completely what McCoy was talking about.

"We don't joke about chocolate in these rooms," McCoy said solemnly. "We're healers, man, we swore an oath."

Kirk rolled his eyes. He remembered why he never spent too long in sickbay. Medical personnell were weird, the lot of them.

"Fine, all right," he said. "If I go order my head nurse to hand over the confiscated goods, will you promise to rest for the rest of the day before you start doing anything work-related and also forgive me for not having noticed you were running on empty - even though you should be trusted to be able to take care of yourself, what with you being a grown-up man and a doctor?"

"No, only if you order her and she actually does it," McCoy said.

Kirk was aware Spock was watching their conversation with palpable amusement. He could almost hear his first officer's voice in his head. 'Sucks when he does that, huh?'

"Usually, people on this ship do what I order them to do," Kirk said, exasperated. "Part of present company excluded."

Spock and McCoy exchanged a look. Kirk wanted to throw them both into the brig.

"Oh for fuck's..." he grumbled and turned abruptly to approach Christine.

McCoy watched after him, then turned his head to catch Spock's gaze on him. "Vulcans still don't bet, huh?" he asked.

"Considering both of us expect the same outcome of this scenario," Spock said, "betting appears to be pointless."

"There's that," McCoy nodded.

"Also, no," Spock said, "Vulcans do not bet."

Kirk walked back to McCoy's bed a moment later and gestured for the sandwich. "Your head nurse says to finish that, you're getting too scrawny."

McCoy lifted one brow.

Kirk didn't meet his eyes. "Chocolate isn't good for you, anyway. You keep telling me that."

McCoy grinned. "No kobayashi maru'ing yourself out of this, hm? Oh well."

Kirk glared at him.

"Aw, c'mon. Can't win them all, Jim. Tell you what - order me to take a nap and I will." He yawned. "That should restore your pride, right?"

Out of the corner of his eye McCoy thought he saw Spock quickly bow his head. He must have been mistake, he figured.

"Keep that up and I'll tell her where you hide the brandy in your office," Kirk said.

McCoy widened his eyes. "And here you started by apologising to me."

Kirk pinched his nose, letting go of a resigned sigh. "Just get some more rest, Bones, then write that statement, all right?"

"Aye, aye, Captain."

Kirk shot him an 'oh fuck you'-look and turned for the exit. "C'mon, Spock, this ship doesn't run itself."

McCoy chuckled as he watched them leave and picked up his PADD, snuggling down into his blanket. A minute later, he was sound asleep.

**THE END**


End file.
